


The Cinderella Effect

by Warp5Complex_Archivist



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: F/F, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-03-23
Updated: 2006-03-23
Packaged: 2018-08-16 07:48:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8093899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Warp5Complex_Archivist/pseuds/Warp5Complex_Archivist
Summary: Malcolm discovers just how much he'll do for love. (01/22/2004)





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Kylie Lee, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Warp 5 Complex](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Warp_5_Complex), the software of which ceased to be maintained and created a security hazard. To make future maintenance and archive growth easier, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but I may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Warp 5 Complex collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/Warp5Complex).

  
Author's notes: I was aiming to attempt Sue C's 25,000th Post Challenge on the EntSlash list, but I think I missed!   


* * *

Lieutenant Malcolm Reed struggled to subdue his temper as he listened to his Captain's discourse with the authoritative woman on the viewscreen.

An Enterprise away team had just visited the old Earth colony on Darloc—to find that the planet now went under the name "Virago" and was run completely by women. Females—more than a thousand of them—overwhelmingly populated the colony itself and, going by their impressive defensive and offensive capabilities, they liked it that way. Men were few, and restricted to menial tasks—mainly out of public view.

As usual, despite fervent protests from his Armoury Officer, Captain Archer had led the away team himself, taking with him only Commander Tucker and Ensign Sato. No security personnel were included in his party.

Malcolm swore under this breath as he glanced up at the image of Mother Alexis—a striking blonde, of around 50 years old, who was the self-styled leader of the colony. She was currently explaining to Archer why the women had kidnapped Commander Tucker—and would not be returning him any time soon.

"Captain, you must understand. We have very few viable sperm-bearers left in our colony and we need to supplement our gene pool. One so young and beautiful as your commander could not possibly be allowed to return to your ship without first...leaving something of himself behind.

"Tonight, we are holding a celebration in his honour—I believe the archaic Earth term is a "party". We have broadcast an invitation on the data-nets to all my sisters of childbearing age and some will attend tonight, others will be arriving over the next few days. We are not slave-mistresses: he will be released to you in due course—once he has performed his function to our satisfaction. Good day, Captain." As Mother Alexis cut the channel, Reed exploded: "Captain! This is outrageous! I can take a security detail down tonight and liberate the commander. They don't have transporter technology: it should be a simple matter to locate him and beam him back..."

Archer cut him off: "No, Malcolm. I don't want to turn this into a fight. This is an Earth colony and these people are humans. I'm sure they'll listen to reason. Trip'll be fine for a night—hell, it's probably his wildest dream come true!—and tomorrow I'll invite Mother Alexis aboard Enterprise for dinner and a chat. Most women respond well to a little wining and dining—and maybe a tour of the ship..."

Malcolm felt a chill of horror. He and Trip had only recently managed to stop playing cat-and-mouse and start a serious relationship. The thought of his beloved being left at the mercy of these...Amazons...was bringing him steadily to the boil and he threw all caution to the wind: "Sir! That's exactly the wrong thing to do! Apart from the fact that you're leaving Commander Tucker to be raped and, of course, the security considerations, she'll see it as a patronising insult and we could irreparably damage our chances of getting Tri—eh, the commander back safely!"

When Archer turned to look at him, Malcolm knew he'd overstepped more than one boundary: "Lieutenant Reed, I do not expect to receive a dressing down from a subordinate officer—especially on my own bridge and in front of the entire bridge crew. Call up your replacement. You're relieved of duty until this matter is settled."

An hour later, Malcolm was pacing in his quarters, his mind racing through various rescue scenarios, when his door chime interrupted his thoughts. "Come in."

To his surprise, Hoshi Sato entered his quarters: "Hello Lieutenant. I just wanted to make sure you were still here. From the look on your face when you left the bridge, I thought you'd already be halfway to the planet—and I know you'd never let a little thing like maybe getting court-martialled stand between you and saving your boyfriend."

Malcolm scowled at her "I would be, if I could come up with a decent plan. You told me yourself, Mother Alexis' palace is like a bloody rabbit warren. By the time I'd found him, her sentries would've twigged there was an intruder and be down on me like a ton of bricks. They'd activate that marvellous shielding the building has and I'd never get him out once that was running..."

Something else she'd said finally occurred to him: "And how do you know about Trip and I?"

Hoshi grinned: "Female intuition—and exceptional hearing. I was two tables away from you in the Mess Hall last week. I heard him call you "Darlin'" and, since you didn't punch him and blushed like a rose instead, I put two and two together."

She gave Malcolm a smug smile as his cheeks pinked up right there and then. "Hmph. You may have struggled with a phase pistol, but you're a dead shot in other ways, Ensign. I trust I can rely on your discretion over this? We haven't yet discussed our relationship with anyone else and I'd like to keep it that way."

Suddenly looking a little uncertain, Hoshi nodded. "I understand, but...well, Liz and I were talking in bed that night and I...told her. I'm sorry! It was just so romantic!"

Malcolm rolled his eyes. "Anyone else? Admiral Forrest, maybe? Or the Vulcan High Command?"

She scowled at him "Just Liz. And your secret is safe with us. I told her you'd kill me if we spread gossip—and she wouldn't want that, would she? Anyway...back to business. What you really need is a spy down there to find out where Trip is without arousing suspicion. Couldn't one of your female security officers do a little reconnaissance?"

Exchanging his pacing for a little fidgeting on the chair by his desk, Malcolm shook his head. "No. I don't want to get anyone else into trouble with the captain. You're right, though. I don't want to arouse suspicion until I absolutely have to, and...Oh."

Worried, Hoshi leaned forward "What d'you mean 'Oh'?"

Back to his prowling, Malcolm was wringing his hands now too. "Hoshi, what do women wear when they're going to a really fancy party?"

Her eyes widening in comprehension, Hoshi jumped to her feet. "Don't go anywhere! I'll be right back."

Ten minutes later, Liz Cutler and Hoshi Sato furtively entered Malcolm's tiny cabin. "Hi Malcolm, we've got everything you need...well, almost. Liz just needs a few measurements, and we're all set. Take off your uniform."

Aghast, Malcolm backed against the bulkhead, Hoshi's hands already at his jumpsuit zipper. "Wait! You can't do this!"

By the time another ten minutes had passed, Malcolm was standing resignedly in his blues as Liz Cutler recorded the vital information. "Okay, Hosh, I'm off to see Annie in Stores. I'll be back in about half an hour."

Accepting a quick peck on the cheek from her lover, Hoshi continued her critical examination of Malcolm's face "Thanks Liz—and remember, something tasteful!"

Sighing, Malcolm glowered at her "Hoshi, I'm sure I can manage this by myself..."

Hoshi reached into her make-up case and selected a liquid foundation, dabbing a spot on Malcolm's face to check the colour match. "No, you can't. Trust me. Now, go have a hot shower then wrap up in a towel and lie on your bunk. We have to deal with a little unwanted hair before we go any further."

"Ow! That's bloody torture. Isn't there some other way you can do it?"

Ripping another waxed strip off Malcolm's shin, Hoshi grinned rather maliciously. "Not if you want it to be quick and temporary. Be thankful we're not doing your bikini line."

He watched miserably as she prepared his other leg. "You're enjoying this far too much, Ensign."

Although his voice was threatening, Hoshi could hear the undertone of worry for Trip. "Malcolm, I won't deny that I'm getting a little sadistic satisfaction here, but you have to realise that women are a mystery to you. If you're going to stand a reasonable chance of getting Trip out of there, you have to look the part—and this is something Liz and I can do to help you succeed. You guys are made for each other and we want to see you back together."

Blinking back the moisture which had suddenly gathered in his eyes, he nodded "I'm sorry, Hoshi. I'm a little wound up right now. Please carry on—and...thank you."

Planting a reassuring kiss on his ultra-smooth cheek, Hoshi smiled: "You're welcome. Now no more yelling—someone might hear."

Liz was a few minutes over her estimated half-hour, but she returned to find Malcolm ready for the next part of his transformation. "Wow, Lieutenant! I never dreamed you'd have such great legs! And they go all the way up!"

Malcolm would have rolled his eyes, but it might have smudged his mascara. His legs, chest and armpits were still stinging from Hoshi's ministrations and the pins holding his wig firmly in place had already given him a headache—but he was determined not to complain. This was for Trip. All of it.

Liz appeared to be carrying rather a lot and he found himself fretting a little as he wondered what was still to come. She and Hoshi advanced on him carrying rolls of the sterile wadding Phlox had used many a time to protect and cushion Malcolm's wounds after surgery. He swallowed uneasily as they proceeded to stuff it down each side of the sheer, black tights he was wearing.

Cutler smiled brightly at him: "Its okay, Lieutenant. We're just giving you a nice pair of hips—you're a little under-endowed in that department."

Hoshi laughed at her lover's comment "Yeah, and a little over-endowed in others! I've got him in support panties to try to keep his assets under control!"

Aware that he currently had a face to match, Malcolm concentrated on his scarlet finger and toenails as he tuned out their conversation. This was for Trip—and he'd bloody well better appreciate it!

It was only as Liz fastened his dress that he was finally allowed to look at himself in the mirror. A tall and surprisingly attractive woman gazed back at him, the two uniformed ensigns looking on in what resembled awe! Eventually Liz whistled "Cinderella, you SHALL go to the ball! Now, let's see you walking in your glass slippers!"

Several attempts later, Malcolm could manage a rather wobbly traverse of his cabin—desperately trying to remember to swing his hips while balancing on high heels. He was sweating, and pitifully glad of the scent-free anti-perspirant Hoshi had dowsed him with before he'd dressed. The women applauded his efforts and, his confidence boosted slightly, he tried again. He'd get this right if it killed him—it was for Trip, that bloody idiot engineer who attracted trouble like nobody else he knew. And he loved him.

With the assistance and vigilance of his two henchwomen, Malcolm made it to the transporter room unseen and keyed in his security code. "Alright, I'll set this thing to respond to a signal from my communicator for the return journey. I don't want you two implicated in this. Now, thanks for everything and clear off. You can visit me later, in the brig."

Hoshi laughed. "Good luck, Lieutenant. And don't forget to think of a name for yourself—in case anyone asks!"

Trip Tucker was in agony. Since he'd been beaten up then stunned during the away team's firefight with the Viragon leader's guards, his head had been pounding. Even worse, though, was the mortification of being stripped naked, chained to Mother Alexis' massive bed and informed that he was to be some kind of sperm-donor to the masses!

Several women had come to stare in the last few hours, doing a little fondling and stroking and promising him more in the near future. To his surprise, though, all he desired was a quiet night with a couple of painkillers and Malcolm Reed.

Suddenly, the door opened and Mother Alexis glided in, leading another woman by the hand. "Commander! How nice to see you again." She turned to her companion "Isn't he glorious, my dear? Imagine! Such a child you two will produce together!"

Tucker couldn't see the women properly, his eyes bruised and swollen, but Mother Alexis' voice was unmistakeable. "This is Tania, Commander. She's very quiet, and a little shy, but she was first to arrive for tonight's celebration—and such eagerness must be rewarded." Taking Tania's hand again, she led her forward to the side of the bed.

Trip squinted at the young woman as she moved into the brighter light. The black velvet dress she wore clung to her slim figure and accentuated the flare and sway of her hips. Its slashed neckline revealed a long, slender neck and high collarbones and the fitting sleeves finished in peaks covering the backs of her elegantly manicured hands. A deep but narrow 'V' was cut from the front hem to just above her knees, showing shapely, black-stockinged legs, trim ankles and small feet in high-heeled black shoes. Her hair was dark as night and styled in a short, sleek bob, cut high at the back but with a heavy fringe, and she wore scarlet lipstick, emphasising her voluptuous mouth. She was gorgeous!

Alexis's imperious voice rang out again. "Go on, dear, claim your prize and may his seed be blessed to your womb."

As the older woman headed for the door, Tania timidly approached the bed and Tucker began to protest: "Miss, um...ah hate ta disappoint ya, but ah can't do this. Ya gotta understand: ah already have a...special person in m' life an' our relationship's kinda exclusive. Yer real pretty, an all, but its Malcolm ah love, an he'd be real upset if ah slept with ya." Tania leaned over, as if to kiss him, and Trip recoiled a little.

Peeping out at him through her fringe, she coyly batted her lashes, drawing attention to her beautiful grey-blue eyes. "Dear god, Mr Tucker, you'll have me blubbering if you say any more. Now, let's get you unshackled and moving. There isn't much time to get to the beam- up co-ordinates."

Trip was stunned and lay open-mouthed as Malcolm picked the locks on the manacles and freed his wrists, examining their raw state as he did so. "You've taken quite a hammering, love. Best get you to Phlox right away. Can you stand?"

Nodding dumbly, the engineer let his lover help him to his feet and wrap one of the silken bed sheets around him for modesty's sake. "Okay, just let me kick off these bloody shoes then we're on our way."

It took Malcolm less than 10 seconds to despatch the guard outside the door, then their escape began in earnest. Running down several flights of stairs took them to the basement, where Malcolm had beamed into the palace. Trip was flagging, his injuries and the lingering effects of being stunned threatening to stop him altogether. "Keep going, love: lean on me. We're almost there."

At last, Malcolm was able to activate the transporter, relieved, for once, to feel the tingling as beam-out began. As they reappeared on Enterprise, Trip sagged, unconscious, into Malcolm's arms and he laid him down gently on the floor, too exhausted to continue supporting his weight.

Jonathan Archer was waiting for them with Phlox. "Ensign Parker, throw Mr Reed in the brig. Doctor. I believe Commander Tucker needs your attention."

As Malcolm was hauled off the transporter platform, he glanced back at the Captain—now worriedly regarding the prone engineer. "Sir! Please let me stay with him. Please! I'll accept any punishment you deem appropriate, but please let me see that he's alright."

Archer fixed him with a stony glare. "Parker. Get him out of my sight."

An hour later, Malcolm was still pacing the confines of his cell. His bare feet were freezing and his heels stung where they'd been blistered, then rubbed raw, by his shoes. There wasn't a part of him that didn't ache from tension and, in some cases, from straining to stay upright in high heels. What hurt most, though, was not being with Trip.

The door opened without warning and he found himself face to face with Phlox. "Doctor! Is Commander Tucker going to be okay?"

It was only when the Denobulan winced that he realised he'd been gripping the doctor's arm rather tightly. He stepped back a little and Phlox smiled. "He'll be fine, Lieutenant. He has a couple of cracked ribs and a lot of cuts and bruises—not least to his dignity—but he's recovering well. Now, let's see how you're doing."

Relieved beyond measure that his lover was safe and well, Malcolm submitted quietly to the doctor's examination and let him dress his sore heels without complaint. As Phlox stood to leave, he smiled "You look exhausted, Mr Reed. Try to get some sleep. Things might look better in the morning."

Alone again, Malcolm lay down on the cell's hard bench-bed and drew the rough blanket around him. More than likely, he'd be demoted—if not actually sent back to Earth for court martial—and there was a good chance his relationship with Trip would be at an end once Archer found out about it. Tears began to prick at his eyes and he buried his face in the flat, lifeless pillow—leaving streaks of mascara and lipstick behind.

He was teetering on the brink of sleep when the door opened again. He forced his eyes open then leaped unsteadily to his feet as he recognised his visitor. "Captain! I'm sorry: I must have dozed off."

Archer gave a rueful grin. "At ease, Lieutenant. It's not an offence to fall asleep. Please sit down before you fall down."

Perching on the edge of the bunk, Malcolm waited to hear of his fate.

"Malcolm, I owe you an apology."

Blinking up at him, Reed frowned—unsure if he'd heard correctly. "Sir?"

"I've just had a long talk with Trip. If I'd stuck to my original plan and left him there until tomorrow, God only knows what state he'd have been in. I underestimated the capabilities of the Viragons and also proved that I'm not the evolved man I thought I was. I also hadn't realised that you and Trip were...seeing each other. He's just given me quite an earful for keeping you away from him.

"You were wrong to speak out of turn on the bridge, and to take matters into your own hands, but I left you no choice. You're free to go, Malcolm, however it's still my duty to punish you for your actions—so here's the deal..."

The moment he was released from his cell, Malcolm fled for his quarters—anxious to divest himself of his disguise and then hurry to sickbay to see Trip. Several crewmembers gaped—uncertain whether or not to call security—as a strange woman, her make up streaked and her stockings torn, hurtled along the corridor towards the senior crew quarters.

Throwing himself in his door, Malcolm stood panting for a second before switching on the lights—to find Trip Tucker sitting on his bunk. He looked tired and pale but his sense of humour was intact: "Hey darlin'. What's a nice girl like you doin' in a place like this?"

Before he had a chance to answer, Malcolm found himself wrapped in strong yet gentle arms and crushed against a warm, muscular body. He gasped in relief: "Oh Trip, I've been so worried...I couldn't bear it when the captain wanted to leave you there until tomorrow. If anything had happened to you, I don't know what..."

Since his outburst on the bridge, Malcolm had fought to keep his emotions tightly locked down. Now, however, they burst forth in a torrent and he found himself sobbing uncontrollably on Trip's shoulder.

He heard a soft chuckle and felt the engineer gently nip at his earlobe. "Malcolm, darlin', I still can't believe how ya did it, but ah knew ya'd come an get me—an' now ah'm safe an' right back where ah belong. Jon didn' realise how serious things were down there—he thought ah'd be like a kid in a candy store. When ah tol' him, and let it slip that we're, uh, involved, he knew straight away that he'd put ya in an impossible position. He's so sorry."

Sniffing indignantly, Malcolm straightened and wiped his eyes—spreading his mascara even further. "He's not THAT bloody sorry. Do you know what he just ordered me to do for a whole week, as punishment for insubordination...?"

Malcolm reported to the bridge for his duty shift next morning, feeling more than a little anxious. As the turbolift doors swished open, Captain Archer stood and smiled at him then addressed the rest of the bridge crew. "Ladies and gentlemen, throughout this week, we'll have a new officer at tactical, Lieutenant Tania Reed. I believe "Tania" is short for "Britannia", isn't that right, Lieutenant?"

Blushing deep crimson, Malcolm kept his eyes lowered as he answered the Captain "Um, yes sir. It was the best I could do at short notice."

Archer grinned widely, obviously enjoying Reed's discomfort and the muffled sniggers from around the bridge "Very well. Carry on, Lieutenant, and try to keep your breasts level in future. The right one appears to be heading south and its very distracting."

Trip Tucker lay placidly on Malcolm's bunk, hands interlaced behind his head, and watched as his lover stripped out of his uniform, en route to the shower. There was no doubt that Lieutenant Reed was spitting feathers!

"I have never been so humiliated in my life! The captain has missed no opportunity to make a spectacle of me. It's intolerable. And I almost castrated myself when I went to the lavatory and pulled up these bloody control briefs in a hurry when he ordered a tactical alert. I'm sure he did it on purpose."

Tucker rolled to his feet and gently kissed his miserable partner then began to undress him, chuckling at the layers of strategically placed padding which gave Reed his girlish figure! Finally, he removed the wig, scrubbing his fingers through Malcolm's hair to fluff it up again, and smiled fondly at the result. "Ah, Malcolm, mah dearest darlin'. Who else would risk his life, his career an' his dignity just fer me?"

He paused to smile at his lover's still perfectly made-up face. "C'mon, let's skip the shower an' have an early night. Ah wanna smear yer lipstick a little."


End file.
